Catching the Wave
by Roguie
Summary: He was an addiction, Zane Donovan, one that no amount of time or space could cure. What started as a game quickly becomes a roller coaster of emotion. Her only choice was to hang on until the end.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Catching the Wave

Part: One of Four

Author: Roguie/ SunSpecOps/ Danae Bowen

Fandom: Eureka

Pairing: Jo/Zane

Rating: T with a huge dash of plus; final chapter will be full blown M. Rating will be upgraded at that time.

Summary: He was an addiction, Zane Donovan, one that no amount of time or space could cure. What started as a game quickly becomes a roller coaster of emotion. Her only choice was to hang on until the end.

Disclaimer: I obviously don't own Eureka, and while that pains me on a daily basis, I still enjoy borrowing the characters and mutating their inner voices to suit my will. Please don't sue; my house is small, my car is useless and my dogs are pains in the arse, but they're all I have.

A/N: Just a little fun with some sensory exploration - looking forward to hearing what you've got to say about this piece. There are four parts to this, each about a thousand words in length. If you'd like to see what happens next - shout it out, because if Jo and Zane are my drug, then reviews are the needle in my muse's arm. She's sensitive, people… just saying.

**~~~E~~~**

He was driving her completely insane, there was no other way to describe it.

At first there was the kiss at Cafe Diem after the whole fireball/firefly incident. Okay, so she pushed that kiss, but c'mon, he was sitting there asking for it. Literally.

What? You didn't think those two little kisses meant she went home with him that night, did you? Jo Lupo may be firmly stuck on Zane Donovan, but she wasn't going to accept an ultimatum without a fight. This time she was going to make him work for what she gave so easily the last, and damned if she wouldn't enjoy every, single second. For his part, Zane seemed more than up for the challenge.

It started with those insufferable fingers of his. The number of times he'd cut them, scorched them, or stuck them in some unnameable corrosive compound, you'd think they'd be rough and calloused, but maybe that was the before Zane because his fingers, now, were so far from rough that she could hardly control the trembles that coursed through her body at his lightest touch. Agreeing to work out this thing between them together apparently stripped Zane of any hesitation he may have once had about touching her in public. He'd rested those large hands on her tiny wrists, thumbs gently stroking the soft flesh over her pulse as her heart immediately stuttered in her chest, her very breath hanging caught in her throat. When those very same fingers travelled from her wrists upwards, brushing a stray lock of hair from her collar bone, soft skin against burning flesh, a whimper dared to escape her lips and the game, so to speak, had officially begun.

Days passed with him making every excuse to drag those strong, soft fingers over her sensitized skin, at work, at play, it seemed nowhere was sacred to him when opportunity presented itself. Not that it mattered, the moment he got within a foot of her, she'd lean towards him, her body craving the simple pleasure of the worship he offered in silence. He was an addiction, Zane Donovan, one that grew worse with every passing moment, and where first it was his touch that melted her in place, now the mere scent of him stalled her heart and started the trembling long before his fingers grazed her skin.

How had she never noticed his scent before? When he walked up behind her, in those precious few moments before his fingers would find the soft expanse of flesh exposed between her waist and shirt hem, pliant, heated flesh that begged for gentle finger pads to bring tremors to her soul, his scent would surround her, envelop her in a heady musk born of cologne, sun, salt, and occasionally the smoke from whatever had exploded in his face that day. It was his scent, pure and unaltered, leaving her gasping before he'd even moved, and it would cling to her long after he'd left her, trembling, whimpering, guttural sounds begging to be let past her lips, no longer able to focus on whatever task she'd been in the midst of when he'd derailed her ability to process thought.

Her resolve weakened quickly, his persistent fingers on her soft skin, his heated breath against her neck, his body leaning into hers until she had no choice but to turn in his arms and desperately meet his lips as she sought any kind of release to break the tension that consumed her entire being. It didn't matter that they were at work, trapped deep within the walls of Global Dynamics as his soft lips captured hers and held them at ransom, tongue begging entrance to her mouth, so wet with heat that his hands closed tightly around her arms when his own strength threatened to fade. Only when her knees buckled, when his thick thigh pressed between her legs was all that kept her standing, did she gather enough force of will to pull away.

Not that he made it easy on her. Those soft, warm lips of his unerringly found the sensitive dip in her throat, gentle teeth scraping heated flesh as he licked and nibbled every centimetre exposed to his will. A resounding growl rumbled in his chest as he drank in the mewling sighs that she couldn't contain, not the only evidence of the beast inside him struggling for escape.

The path of biting kisses he left as he trailed from her throat to her ear, his hot, unsteady breath an ocean of sound and sensation as it drifted over her, was a distraction from everything except the length of his body pressed to hers, hard plane of arousal undeniable as she was held in place, between flesh and metal, higher reasoning flooding from her body on waves of moist heat that pleaded with him to push her further, to take what was without a doubt rightfully his.

When she shoved him away, denying both their bodies the release they craved so desperately, his teeth caught the lobe of her ear, tugging sharply as he fought his own battle for control, disappointment and challenge waging a war that turned his blue eyes stormy grey, his jaw set in determination while stealing a final searing kiss before departing on a whispered, "It's not over yet, JoJo."

Her lips twitched as she watched him leave, his normal even step awkward as he adjusted his jeans with care, stepping out into the corridor with a challenging smirk. For the next few minutes there would be absolutely no doubt over what he'd been up to, or with whom he'd been up to it.

As her body released the last bit of emotional tension on a too high pitched laugh to have come from her throat, Jo shook her head slowly. If he could bring it, she could take it. Jo Lupo doesn't lose, it's not in her nature. She figured a few more days of this and she'd have Zane on his knees at her feet, begging for release.

She straightened her suit, straightened her hair, sucked her lower lip between her teeth and sighed as she steadied her painfully stuttering heart. She only hoped that when one of them cracked that it wouldn't be in public. After all, neither she nor Zane had the best track record when it came to control.

**~~~TBC~~~**

**In The Next Part:**

_In another time she would have stiffened, all senses on alert and perhaps fingers would have been broken, maybe a nose, but there definitely would have been blood. In this time, while though she did stiffen, the scent of him as he approached, the gentleness of his touch, the worship in his kiss, all of that combined forced her to lean back against him, sighing softly as his fingers travelled and teeth cut into flesh, leaving no doubt that she would wear his mark in the morning._

**Coming Soon!**


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Catching the Wave

Part: Two of Four

Author: Roguie/ SunSpecOps/ Danae Bowen

Fandom: Eureka

Pairing: Jo/Zane

Rating: T with a huge dash of plus; final chapter will be full blown M. Rating will be upgraded at that time.

Summary: He was an addiction, Zane Donovan, one that no amount of time or space could cure. What started as a game quickly becomes a roller coaster of emotion. Her only choice was to hang on until the end.

Disclaimer: I obviously don't own Eureka, and while that pains me on a daily basis, I still enjoy borrowing the characters and mutating their inner voices to suit my will. Please don't sue; my house is small, my car is useless and my dogs are pains in the arse, but they're all I have.

A/N: Just a little fun with some sensory exploration - looking forward to hearing what you've got to say about this piece. There are four parts to this, each about a thousand words in length. If you'd like to see what happens next - shout it out, because if Jo and Zane are my drug, then reviews are the needle in my muse's arm. She's sensitive, people… just saying.

**~~~E~~~**

When he cornered her next, it was at her weakest moment in a secluded corner of Cafe Diem, indulging in ice cold ice cream that was drowning in steaming hot fudge. She faced the wall, comfortably situated on a stool, the world that was Eureka carrying on around her as she lost herself in the contrast of flavours dripping from her simple metal spoon. Her white tank top and low cut jeans, although flattering in the way they brought out her olive skin tone and dark eyes, did little to protect her from his burning gaze as he approached her silently from behind.

It was dangerous, perhaps a bit foolish, definitely underhanded the way he quietened his step, announcing his presence by sliding his hands down her arms, his lips immediately finding the softest, silkiest skin on her shoulder, his warm tongue consuming her as if she were more delectable than the sweet concoction cooling her throat.

In another time she would have stiffened, all senses on alert and perhaps fingers would have been broken, maybe a nose, but there definitely would have been blood. In this time, while though she did stiffen, the scent of him as he approached, the gentleness of his touch, the worship in his kiss, all of that combined forced her to lean back against him, sighing softly as his fingers travelled and teeth cut into flesh, leaving no doubt that she would wear his mark in the morning.

How his warm fingers found the hem of her shirt so easily, she wouldn't question, but as she leaned back against him, the softest sigh upon her lips, his hand splayed out across her stomach, steadying her against him at the same time as sending sweet shivers through her every nerve, she had no strength left to wage war. Her body betrayed her in the way it softened against him, heat rising from her skin instantly, her silent reaction more vocal than the guttural moans he'd grown used to night after night, before they'd fallen apart.

Fingers brushed the underside of her breasts, lips and tongue feasted on the flavour of her flesh, and when she couldn't take a second more she wound her own fingers into his hair, pulling his lips to hers, sealing the whimpering sounds that built in her throat against his mouth, only a soft groan escaping when he easily pulled her into his arms, stealing her chair, settling her into his lap without an ounce of humility.

"Come home with me," he whispered past her ear, just the heat of his breath enough to arch her body against his, determination warring with a desperate need that coiled low in her belly.

"Wait," she murmured back, her eyes closing as his fingers stiffened on her hips, leaving marks she knew would take days to erase. "I have to know there's more to us than this."

"Goddamn it, Jo, we are what we make ourselves." He leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers as his jaw clenched tightly. "And right now you're making me insane. Can't be held accountable for my actions."

"Is that a threat?" Her eyebrow raised, her hand lifting to his chest, her thumb playing over the pulse point in his throat as he swallowed heavily.

"Eh, I was thinking promise, but whatever turns your crank."

She sighed, leaning back, reality a cool stream of water over sensation scalded skin. Her expression shifted from tortured to neutral as she leaned away from him, her fingers stilling against his collar bone. There was no bite to her words when she spoke next, but a deep resignation that bled through on every syllable. "Go home, Zane. Alone."

Disappointment mingled with frustration in those endless blue eyes of his, and he shook his head, stroking the shell of her ear with a single, soft finger. "C'mon, JoJo, you're not gonna make me beg, are you?"

She could feel his eyes on her as she climbed to her feet, her coveted bowl of ice cream forgotten on the table as she turned her back to him and headed for the door, her jaw clenched tightly not with anger but with the agony of her own betrayal. He was perfect look at, perfect to feel, but sometimes when he opened his mouth...

What kind of future lay before them if every time he spoke she felt herself pulled back to a place in time that no longer existed? How could life be so cruel in it's effort to offer glimpses of the life that lay stretched out before her, over flowing with promise, while she still chased her own heart, unable to bury what lay in the past?

"Jo? Jo, c'mon!"

"See you tomorrow, Zane," she murmured softly, offering Vincent a sad smile as he looked between them in confusion, but not enough that he didn't place himself directly in Zane's path as he tried to follow Jo from the Cafe.

Frustration radiated from the younger man, delayed by a friend, but words weren't necessary as Zane turned and sat at the counter, taking the Vinspresso offered silently. He knew where he wanted to be, knew what he wanted to be doing, but when Jo put her mind to something, the entire town stood behind her and he'd not be seeing her again that night.

Hell, he didn't even know what he'd done wrong.

**~~~TBC~~~**

**In the Next Part:**

_Nothing worked, nothing at all. No matter where he turned, no matter what he tried, his body rejected the thought of anything but Jo Lupo in his arms, writhing, whimpering, screaming his name into the darkness. His name on the lips of his girl. _

**Coming Soon!**


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Catching the Wave

Part: Three of Four

Author: Roguie/ SunSpecOps/ Danae Bowen

Fandom: Eureka

Pairing: Jo/Zane

Rating: T with a huge dash of plus; final chapter will be full blown M. **Rating will be upgraded for the next and final chapter and as such will not appear in normal updates.**

Summary: He was an addiction, Zane Donovan, one that no amount of time or space could cure. What started as a game quickly becomes a roller coaster of emotion. Her only choice was to hang on until the end.

Disclaimer: I obviously don't own Eureka, and while that pains me on a daily basis, I still enjoy borrowing the characters and mutating their inner voices to suit my will. Please don't sue; my house is small, my car is useless and my dogs are pains in the arse, but they're all I have.

A/N: Just a little fun with some sensory exploration - looking forward to hearing what you've got to say about this piece. There are four parts to this, each about a thousand words in length. If you'd like to see what happens next - shout it out, because if Jo and Zane are my drug, then reviews are the needle in my muse's arm. She's sensitive, people… just saying.

**~~~E~~~**

He made it all the way until midnight.

First, he went for a run. When he'd lapped his neighbourhood twice and still couldn't shake himself free of Jo's scent wrapped around him, drowning him in thoughts that faltered his step, he had no choice but to turn and jog home.

Second, he worked out. Hell, he could bench press his own weight, and still, with his jaw locked, his arms tense, sweat dripping off him in warm rivulets, he couldn't shake the weight of Jo pressing down upon him and any progress he'd made disintegrated in the night.

Third, he tried out an old staple, letting cold spikes of water wash over his body, calming the heat that seemed to never quite quit burning under his skin. Still, he found himself weak and a single brush of his hand across his most sensitive flesh once again brought Jo to mind, her dark eyes dancing mischievously, her grin turned wicked as she taunted him unmercifully.

Nothing worked, nothing at all. No matter where he turned, no matter what he tried, his body rejected the thought of anything but Jo Lupo in his arms, writhing, whimpering, screaming his name into the darkness. His name on the lips of his girl.

It was ridiculous how possessive he'd become. Before Astreaus, before the matrix, he and Jo had this thing - more than friends, less than lovers, and it worked for them in a weirdly Lupo-Donovan kind of way. She drew the lines, she called the shots, he got laid on a regular basis by the smoking hot Chief of Global Dynamics Security, and that was enough. It had to be enough. Even if he couldn't get her off his mind, even if the idea of Astreaus without her was utterly ridiculous that it made his head spin, even if his chest ached and his lungs burned, even if his fingers dug half moons into the palms of his hand when she'd pressed her warm lips to his cheek then turned and walked away, possibly forever, it had to be enough.

He'd realized it wasn't enough the moment he'd seen her in Carter's arms, her dark eyes glowing for him, her fingers on his sasquatch chest, her lips against his, her heart in the hands of Howdy freaking Doody and there was nothing he could do but watch. How sharp a shot to the head it had been to finally understand that what Carter and Jo had built in his absence was exactly what he wanted, needed, from her but couldn't voice. Without her by his side, he had no grounding, no center of mass to generate a gravitational orbit. He was lost and angry and so full of regret for words never said that it took every ounce of restraint to not put his fist through a wall every single day he'd lived in that world.

She'd been his. She'd always been his. Somewhere down the line he'd convinced her to love him, but in the midst of self destructing, he'd not fully understood what she'd been saying until one day it had been too late. Now, when he knew without a single, solitary doubt that this was what he wanted, that he needed her to be his and no other's, she questioned him when she'd never done before. They'd spent so much time agreeing that what they had was just sex, she'd quite possibly convinced herself that there couldn't be anything more.

He made it until midnight before he stormed out of his house, made a mess of his neighbour's garden, climbed onto his bike and tore across town like the devil himself was chasing him down.

When SARAH let him in without so much as a peep, he crept quietly through the house to Jo's room, a path he'd long since memorized in the dark. He whispered a quiet thank you to the house before slipping inside the room and silently turned the lock on the door. The closet door was ajar, the light turned on and chasing away the shadows of the room, dark enough to allow sleep, illuminated just enough that his eyes immediately found Jo, curled in the center of her bed, hair spread out across her pillow as she slept. He chuckled as her foot twitched slightly, her teeth finding hold in her lower lip as she dreamed, the blanket's she'd fallen asleep with skewed across the mattress, leaving her without cover.

Perhaps he should've felt some form of guilt, watching as she shifted in her sleep, rolling to her back, one hand over her head, one hand resting on her stomach, but instead his eyes travelled the length of her very bare legs to the small expanse of silk that wrapped across her hips. He swallowed thickly, unable to help himself as his eyes travelled further, drinking in the tiny bit of fabric the tank top she wore consisted of, breathing in her sweet scent as she arched silently, dragging his gaze to her breasts hidden away from view by so very little. His heart pounded painfully in his chest as his eyes continued their journey, travelling across the swell of her breasts, to the delicate dip in her throat, drinking in the sweet peace she radiated in her sleep as his gaze settled on her face, her lips curved into a half smile, her eyes fluttering softly as she dreamed.

He lay the flowers he'd pulled from his neighbours garden on her bedside table, careful to not disturb her as he slipped into the bed, settling on his side facing her, only a single finger reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from her face with a touch so soft that it could've been nothing more than a whisper of wind on her skin. He thought at first to wake her with kisses, but as if her body instinctively knew his presence, she shifted towards him, her body pressing up against his side, settling against him, her head finding comfort against his shoulder. He couldn't help himself as he stretched his arm out beneath her, cocooning her against him as he breathed in deeply the scent that was only Jo. This was exactly where he needed to be. the one place in the world where he could instantly find the peace he so desperately craved.

**~~~TBC~~~**

**In The Next Part:**

_"What are you doing here?" She didn't bother to pretend there was any modesty between them, there was no pulling of the covers to her chest, no furtive glances down his body to see that his boxer shorts were well in place, there was just an angry Jo, with sleep tossed hair and a hand on her hip on her knees at his side. He couldn't help the slow smile from gracing his features as he gazed up at her with clear blue eyes._

**Coming Soon!**


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Catching the Wave

Part: Four of Five (my bad)

Author: Roguie/ SunSpecOps/ Danae Bowen

Fandom: Eureka

Pairing: Jo/Zane

Rating: T with a huge dash of plus; final chapter will be full blown M. Rating will be upgraded at that time.

Summary: He was an addiction, Zane Donovan, one that no amount of time or space could cure. What started as a game quickly becomes a roller coaster of emotion. Her only choice was to hang on until the end.

Disclaimer: I obviously don't own Eureka, and while that pains me on a daily basis, I still enjoy borrowing the characters and mutating their inner voices to suit my will. Please don't sue; my house is small, my car is useless and my dogs are pains in the arse, but they're all I have.

A/N: Okay, so I promised smut for this chapter and I failed, it is forthcoming but I figured y'all might get a kick out of conversation before smut. :D Besides, smut may be a few weeks off since I accidentally promised someone a J/Z dungeon fic, and don't tell her this, but she's demanding!

~~~E~~~

He thought that if he kept his eyes closed, his breathing even, that when she awoke she'd be less likely to inflict bodily harm upon him. He felt her begin to shift against him, her tongue that darted out to wet her lips forcing his jaw to tighten in restraint when she accidentally brushed that tongue over the nipple she'd been laying against. She wasn't quick to wake, his JoJo; before her mind could catch up with her body, she was stretching against him, breast against chest, thigh brushing thigh, the motion of her body shifting her just enough that his hand quite innocently ended up cupping her bum through the slim protection of her tiny black panties. It almost did him in when her confusion muddled thoughts told her it would be a good idea to run her very warm hand down his body, from chest to stomach, solidifying his presence in her bed, in her mind.

"Zane? What the hell?"

She moved so quickly that he hadn't even the time to protect himself before her long abandoned pillow hit his face, forcing his eyes open, and a single hand raised to protect himself from further blows.

"Good morning to you, too."

"What are you doing here?" She didn't bother to pretend there was any modesty between them, there was no pulling of the covers to her chest, no furtive glances down his body to see that his boxer shorts were well in place, there was just an angry Jo, with sleep tossed hair and a hand on her hip, on her knees at his side. He couldn't help the slow smile from gracing his features as he gazed up at her with clear blue eyes.

"Well, I was trying to sleep."

"In my bed?"

His eyes danced and he drew one arm behind his head as he gazed up at her, the other coming to rest against her waist, fingers softly drawing patterns over her smooth skin. "Mmhmm. Where else would you expect me to sleep?"

She snorted softly, but made no attempt to bat away his wandering fingers, her own eyes beginning their quiet dance. "In your own bed?"

"Eh," he murmured softly, his lips curving into a full on grin. "_You_ were _here_."

"Why... no, how?" She sighed in exasperation, laying back down against her pillow, turning on to her side. "SARAH, you and I need to talk."

There was a pause before the house spoke calmly. "Is there a problem, Chief Lupo?"

"False innocence doesn't become you."

If ever a house could laugh, they felt it in SARAH at that moment. "I have no idea what you mean. When you're ready, coffee will be available in the kitchen."

"Why, thank you, SARAH."

They swear they could hear her smile. "My pleasure, Mr. Donovan."

Jo glared at him playfully, her tone accusatory. "You've corrupted my house."

He chuckled softly, "No. I've corrupted Carter's house."

She laughed with him softly, before the spark went out of her eyes and her expression turned serious. "Why are you here, Zane?"

He shrugged softly. "I told you. You were here."

"That's not an answer."

"It's answer enough for me." He watched her as she remained unyielding, the way she worried her lip between her teeth, her need to push that lock of hair that never quite stays put behind her ear. He watched as she flushed, uncertain, glancing between him and the door as if judging her escape. He watched as she swallowed thickly, ever so slowly relaxing. "I love you, Jo, I want to be where you are. Is that so much to ask?"

Her eyes were wide when they met his steady gaze, blue cerulean so certain of his words that she almost didn't recognize the man behind them. He knew what he wanted, who he wanted, what he needed to do to make that happen; the surety of it all was so strangely familiar that for a single brief second she could see the boy inside him that she'd once known and loved with all the purity that young hearts could possess.

He didn't panic like he once would have. He didn't try to escape her startled gaze by leaving in a rush. He didn't even look away as she struggled to put together the random thoughts and feelings that were tearing through her heart and mind with all the speed of a freight train on an express track to nowhere.

Rather than run, he merely closed his eyes, leaning back against the pillows, propping himself up on his arms as he waited patiently for the panic to pass. "Think it over," he said simply, allowing no tease to enter his words that could potentially offend her. "I'll be here when you've processed."

~~~TBC


End file.
